


Chapter 11: Lip Gallagher - Public Enemy No. 1

by dc_comic_girl



Series: The Story of Mickey Milkovich [11]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, M/M, POV Mickey, POV Mickey Milkovich, Protective Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dc_comic_girl/pseuds/dc_comic_girl
Summary: Mickey is getting bored of the monotony of day to day work at the Kash and Grab, and it's made worse by the fact that Ian has been spending all his time off studying or some shit.





	Chapter 11: Lip Gallagher - Public Enemy No. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Here's the next chapter! It's short, but I plan on posting the next one tomorrow. As I've said in previous chapters: I don't hold the opinions or beliefs of these characters, and I hope you all know you are people worthy of love and respect.
> 
> I also don't hate Lip (so please don't bite my head off - he's one of my favourites). I just really found his and Mickey's relationship interesting in the show. They were the same age and they dated each other's little siblings. There were so few scenes with the two of them together, but when they were together, I always found their...uneasy alliance...interesting.
> 
> I don't own these characters or the dialog from the show. I hope you enjoy!

By about the second week of working at the Kash and Grab, Mickey was starting to wonder if maybe tarring roofs would have been a better option.

Ian had been right that there were hardly any attempts at theft for him to stop, which meant Mickey ended up spending most of his time either stocking shelves or, God forbid, working the cash register. Stocking shelves might have been humiliating, but it was a considerably better option than bagging groceries for little old ladies.

The job had also significantly increased the amount of quality time Mickey was forced to spend with Linda. Linda may have been on bedrest, but her presence was still palpable. She continually screamed at him through the child’s walkie talkie to rotate the orange juice cartons or to get his hands off the donut he had swiped for breakfast. Being on the same side of the counter had done nothing to increase the woman’s trust in Mickey, and he was getting fucking tired of her omnipresence. Death, taxes, and fuckin’ Linda.

Oh, and Lip Gallagher.

Mickey had never particularly enjoyed when Lip used to pop up unexpectedly, and he liked it even less now that it was no longer unexpected. Every other day Lip would show up in his stupid ice cream truck playing _Pop Goes the Weasel_. Sometimes the bartender from the Alibi who lived down the street from the Gallaghers would be with him, but usually Lip would be alone, and because Lip had never learned how to exist in silence for more than ten goddamn seconds, Mickey was usually forced into uncomfortable small talk.

He had tried at first to ignore Lip, busying himself with stocking cans or reading a magazine. Mickey quickly realized, however, that if he didn’t steer the conversation in any kind of way, Lip would begin talking about Karen Jackson, which was so much more annoying than when Lip would use conversation to prove how much smarter he is than the rest of Chicago.

Worst of all, though, was that Ian was barely even fuckin’ _at_ the Kash and Grab, and when he was, his nose was buried in some math book. Linda had seen his excessive studying (presumably through her creepy ass security cameras) and substantially cut back Ian’s hours.

“I’m not paying for two bodies to be here if one of them is going to be taking practice exams instead of working,” she had said, while giving them their paychecks after Mickey’s first week.

So, for most of the day, while Ian was off fuckin’ memorizing theorems or some shit, Mickey was alone. Just him and the walkie talkie, waiting for Lip to arrive. Fan-fuckin’-tastic.

Mickey pulled himself out of bed with a groan. He threw on his jeans and grabbed the security jacket Ian had made for him. He felt kinda stupid wearing it around, since the closest he ever got to roughing anyone up was stopping 10-year-olds from stuffing their pockets with skittles or refusing the expired coupons of 40-year-old bitchy moms, but Ian had looked so proud when he handed it to him, and for some reason that was enough to keep Mickey putting the stupid thing on every day.

He walked out into the kitchen to find Mandy sitting with a bowl of cereal, typing on her phone.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to Mickey that she seemed to have lost her interest in domesticating herself or their home since his incarceration and subsequent return. Mandy no longer cooked breakfast or dinner; she no longer attempted to throw parties; she dressed mostly in black; and, as far as Mickey could tell, Ian was the only friend Mandy had left. He was beginning to realize more and more what Ian had mentioned in his letter, and why it had concerned the boy so much. Ian had assured Mickey that he saw a positive change in Mandy since Mickey had come home, but Mickey couldn’t help but feel like Ian was just trying to ease his mind. And if that wasn’t the case…well, fuck, how bad was Mandy while he was _away_?

Mickey grabbed his own bowl and sat down at the table across from his sister. Mickey poured some of the cereal from the box into his bowl, added milk, and started eating in silence.

At their very happiest, neither Mandy nor Mickey had been one for chitchat, and, since his return, Mickey had noticed Mandy was also significantly quieter than she used to be, unless Ian was around, which was recently much less – she too was a casualty of the fuckin’ West Point obsession. So, it was a testament to her particularly good mood when Mandy put down her phone and gave Mickey a half smile.

“You have work today?” Mandy asked, conversationally.

Mickey grunted his confirmation and continued to shovel cereal into his mouth. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Mandy spoke again.

“I’ve been invited to a slumber party,” she said with a smirk, her voice a combination of sarcasm and thinly veiled excitement.

Mickey looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“When?”

“Tomorrow night. Debbie Gallagher’s, Lip and Ian’s little sister.”

Mickey belched and got up to put his bowl in the sink, already overflowing with dirty dishes.

“Isn’t she, like, twelve?” Mickey asked, turning to face his sister, leaning against the counter.

“Eleven,” Mandy answered, getting up to put her own dish in the sink. “But I don’t think she has a lot of friends her age, so Lip and Ian are just trying to put bodies in the seats.”

“So, the party is you, Lip, and Ian at an 11-year-old girl’s slumber party? Sounds like a real wild time.” Mickey rolled his eyes and walked past his sister, towards the door. She followed and they walked down the street in silence for a while.

“I think it’s sweet Lip is trying to throw this party for his kid sister,” Mandy said, more to herself than Mickey.

_It’s not exactly carving your dead mother’s name into a tree at 3 in the fuckin’ morning, but sure_, Mickey thought, but didn’t respond. They approached the Kash and Grab and Mickey pulled the keys to the barred front door out of his jeans pocket. Mandy continued on, to the mall or to the park or to quiz Ian on the intricacies of trigonometric ratios – wherever the hell she went all day.

It didn’t occur Mickey until she was already a block and a half away that Mandy had only mentioned how sweet **one** of the Gallagher brothers was.

* * *

The first couple hours of work were boring as shit. Mickey was pretty sure, the only people who buy groceries on a Friday morning are stay at home mothers just trying to get a break from their bratty children running and screaming up and down the halls at home. True to this theory, the morning had only seen two customers: both women; both haggard and tired; both buying a bunch of diapers, frozen dinners, and cheep beer.

Having so few customers meant that Mickey was left alone with his thoughts for most of the day.

Why did Mandy think it was so great that the Gallaghers were throwing a sleepover for their sister? No, correction: Mandy thought it was great _Lip_ was throwing a sleepover. She barely mentioned Ian, and wasn’t he supposed to be her boyfriend? At least, that’s what she thought Mickey thought.

And where exactly was Lip getting all these big-brother-of-the-year points from? He was doing everything in his fuckin’ power to make sure Ian got into West Point and shipped out as soon as fuckin’ possible. So, he braids his little sister’s hair and makes up for it?

Mickey seethed. He didn’t _like_ Lip, but fuck if he wasn’t supposed to be useful. He was supposed to take care of his siblings. He was supposed to take care of _Ian_. He was supposed to _stop_ Ian from joining the army, not pack his fuckin’ bags for him.

No. No fuckin’ way. Lip didn’t get to be a self-centred prick _and_ the golden boy of the south side.

Linda hadn’t chirped through the walkie talkie since Mickey arrived, so he assumed she was taking one of her “doctor prescribed” naps, and for once Mickey was disappointed at the lack of distraction. He had already read all the new magazines and the sports section of the day’s newspaper trying to occupy his mind, when the garage door in the back of the store finally opened and in walked one Lip fuckin’ Gallagher.

Mickey watched him over the top of the comics section of the paper. All his fury bubbled up to the surface, and he waited for the boy to come over and try to start a conversation, so he could release his rage.

It didn’t come.

Lip silently carried the ice cream and pop from the back of the store to the back of his truck, never saying a word. Mickey’s anger was temporarily replaced by confusion. Had he entered the Twilight Zone at some point? He had never known Lip to be quiet for longer than it takes to suck in some air, and now he’s…what? Taken a vow of silence?

“Yo! Gallagher!” Mickey called across the store.

Lip tilted his head up but looked thoroughly lost in his own thoughts.

“Uh, what?” he asked impatiently.

“Where the fuck’s your brother been?” Mickey asked, gesturing to the, otherwise empty, store.

“Studying for summer school,” Lip answered, picking up another case of pop and turned his back on Mickey. His laconic replies were doing nothing to quell Mickey’s simmering anger.

“Well, when the fuck’s that gonna stop?” Mickey asked, coming out from behind the counter. “Summer’s over in, like, two weeks.”

Lip set down the case of pop in the back of the truck with a loud bang. He rubbed the back of his neck, barely containing his annoyance. Like he had _so_ many better things to do.

“Well, uh, you know, Mick, for _most_ people, school actually continues in the fall, so…”

Mickey sneered. He clenched and unclenched his fists, willing himself not to punch Lip right in his smug mouth.

“So, what? He’s just, not comin’ back?”

Lip’s eyes shot up, all tiredness gone, and starred Mickey down, coldly, as if daring him to do…something.

“Why do you even care, huh?”

Mickey had to stop himself from flinching. There was something in Lip’s tone that caught him off guard. The question wasn’t really as curious or confused as it seemed. It was accusatory.

“Well, maybe I’m not crazy about doing all the fuckin’ work around here indefinitely,” Mickey shot back, in what he considered a pretty smooth recovery.

Lip smirked. His trademark, cocky-bitch, smirk that screamed, “I know more than you do.” Mickey glared at him with hate. He wanted badly to hit him, but he was hyperaware of the cameras facing him, and Lip Gallagher was not worth going back to juvie for.

Mickey swallowed hard. “You really helpin’ him get into West Point?”

It was Lip’s turn to flinch at an accusatory tone.

“I’m helping him study,” Lip admitted, closing the back of the ice cream truck.

“Why?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Then why the fuck you tryna get him killed?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted Lip to see the error of his ways in playing Uncle Sam or if he just wanted to see Lip hurt. He was pretty sure he’d count either as a win. Lip didn’t answer right away, so Mickey pressed on.

“We all know Karen Jackson fucked you up when she banged Frank, so I think everyone’d get it if you wanna off _your_self, but I think it’s a little weird that you’re tryna send your kid brother off to be blown up by some hajis.”

Lip ground his teeth and looked like he was gonna throw a punch. Mickey kinda hoped he would. He could claim self defence and kick Gallagher’s scrawny fuckin’ ass.

But Lip didn’t throw a punch. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the wad of cash for the ice cream and pop. He grabbed Mickey’s wrist and pressed the bills into his palm – hard.

“You know what, Mick? I wouldn’t sweat it, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you’ll be back in juvie way before he even enlists.”

With that, Lip turned on his heel and walked towards the front of the ice cream truck. Mickey glared after him, breathing through flared nostrils. He slammed the garage door closed.

* * *

**BANG**.

Mickey had closed the store early. Like, ten hours early. He didn’t give a shit. Linda could fire him for all he cared.

**BANG**.

He had walked home, grabbed the first handgun he could find and a sleeve of ammo. His original plan was to make it to the old decrepit buildings he went to to be alone, but he had only made it as far as the L. Under the train someone had set up crudely drawn cardboard caricatures of some towelheads and Mickey couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoot them down.

**BANG**.

_Fuck Lip._

**BANG**.

_Fuck Ian._

**BANG**.

_Fuck the Gallaghers and their fuckin’ half baked plans. And fuck Mandy for thinking the sun rises and sets on the fuckin’ Gallagher household._

**BANG**.

_But, yeah, fuck Lip._

**BANG**.

Mickey felt his frustrations dissolving with each recoil of the gun. He smiled as he shot the cartoon cut-out right in the head.

“Gearing up for bank robbery season?”

Mickey turned his head slightly to see Frank Gallagher walking towards him.

“I don’t have any whippets, Franks,” Mickey replied, walking over to grab his can of beer. “Saw a couple spray-paint cans behind the liquor store you could huff.”

“Why do you think I want something?” Frank asked, sounding hurt.

“You’re breathing.”

“Hoping to gank a couple of rounds of ammo from you,” Frank admitted. His eyes darted towards the box of slugs Mickey had sitting on an overturned bucket, and his hand twitched instinctively towards it. Mickey took a chug of his beer and looked over at Frank with raised eyebrows, slightly impressed.

“Who you huntin’?”

“Trying to scare off a neighbourhood dog,” Frank replied, pulling a piece out of the back of his pants.

“Yeah? Anybody I know?” Mickey asked and caught sight of the gun in Frank’s hands. Any residual anger he was holding onto was put on the backburner, suddenly dwarfed by admiration for the gun. “Fuckin’ Luger? That’s sweet man.”

Frank had to have stolen the gun. There was no way any of the Gallaghers owned something that nice and hadn’t pawned it off by now.

“It was my father’s,” Frank mumbled.

“Hey, I don’t think they make ammo for that anymore,” Mickey shrugged, walking back to his shooting mark.

“Ah, come on, just one cap,” Frank pleaded.

“What do you mean ‘one cap’?” Mickey asked, and it dawned on him that Frank new jack shit about guns. “Slugs are specific to each gun, Frank. It’s not a fuckin’ mix and match.”

He watched Frank grab a slug out of the box anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Frank mumbled, walking away.

“Guns ain’t Garanimals,” Mickey yelled in warning after Frank, turning back to his cardboard targets.

“Look at that! Perfect fit!” Frank called back, indignantly.

_Whatever. Let him shoot his fuckin’ eye out_, Mickey thought to himself, closing his own eye to aim on the cartoon. 

_Fuck the Gallaghers_.

**BANG**.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, for context as to why Lip is quiet and moody: these scenes (episode from which the last scene is taken actually) are from the episode right after Karen gets engaged to Jodie, when Lip was at his most obsessed and crazy. There's also a scene in this episode were Lip snaps at Ian about wanting to join the army and die for a country that doesn't care about him, so I'm taking some liberties and implying that Mickey was some kind of catalyst. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Please comment, I read them all. If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to ask! 
> 
> I'll post again soon.


End file.
